34. Ah wounded Head! Must Thou

Ah wounded Head! Must Thou
Endure such shame and scorn!
The blood is trickling from Thy brow
Pierced by the crown of thorn.
Thou who wast crowned on high
With light and majesty,
In deep dishonour here must die,
Yet here I welcome Thee!

Thou noble countenance!
All earthly lights are pale
Before the brightness of that glance,
At which a world shall quail.
How is it quenched and gone!
Those gracious eyes how dim!
Whence grew that cheek so pale and wan?
Who dared to scoff at Him?

All lovely hues of life,
That glowed on lip and cheek,
Have vanished in that awful strife;
The Mighty One is weak.
Pale Death has won the day,
He triumphs in this hour
When Strength and Beauty fade away,
And yield them to his power.

Ah would that I could share
Thy cross, Thy bitter woes!
All true delight lies hidden there,
Thence all true comfort flows.
Ah well were it for me
That I could end my strife,
And die upon the cross with Thee,
Who art my Life of life!

My soul is all o'erfraught,
O Jesus, dearest Friend,
With thankful love to Him who sought
Such woe for such an end.
Grant me as true a faith,
As Thou art true to me,
That so the icy sleep of death
Be but a rest in Thee.

Yes, when I must depart,
Depart Thou not from me;
When Death is creeping to my heart,
Bear Thou mine agony.
When faith and courage sink,
O'erwhelmed with dread dismay,
Come Thou who ne'er from pain didst shrink,
And chase my fears away.